


Inspiration

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-20
Updated: 2008-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Books do nothing to entertain me," said Sasori, fingering the strands of Deidara's unnecessary hair, now rendered even more unkempt by the bed sheets. "I'm afraid you'll have to suffer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

There were moments in Sasori's life that could be unbearably boring at times. Sometimes he'd be given a mission that required a lot of patience that he just didn't have. Other times Leader-sama would bore the whole team with his blathering on how "Oh, I'm God and you will obey me because blah blah and blah" and stuff like that. The biggest one was lacking inspiration on a new puppet design, or even just revision on an old one. Being a puppet himself, things such as eating and sleeping were completely unnecessary for him, and thus his twenty-four hour days could occasionally be wrought of utter boredom. Boredom frustrated him, because as an artist he sometimes would have to wait on his muse to make the perfect product, and we all know how Sasori hates to wait.

So who did he take his boredom out on?

Why, his partner Deidara, of course! Deidara was at his finest when it was late at night and long asleep, so Sasori didn't have to hear his whining, bragging, or general retardedness. Though they shared a room, Sasori hardly ever bothered to go in seeing as he didn't sleep anyway, so why waste his time staring up at his ceiling waiting for the sun to rise? Again, waiting was dumb asses. Sasori was all about instant gratification.

There wasn't all that much gratifying about Deidara, so he was merely a last resort. Sasori often contemplated turning Deidara into a puppet, just because he'd be more efficient and less stupid that way, but Sasori wasn't sure if he wanted this loud-mouthed brat to join his collection of eternal beauties. After all, he did not find Deidara to be worthy of his talents, or even particularly beautiful. Granted, he wasn't quite, OK, NEARLY as ugly as Orochimaru, he was still too, how should Sasori put it? Way too wild looking! Haphazard hairstyles and eyeliner didn't quite work for Sasori. The fact that Deidara had more than one mouth also took away from his appeal. Sasori didn't want to imagine what inbred, freak show of a clan Deidara had crawled out of.

As he spent some nights contemplating Deidara, he spent others actually physically observing him. Now, Sasori has no nerves anymore, so he couldn't quite assess whether Deidara's skin was smooth or coarse, based on anything other than the way it looked. Come to think of it, maybe his mouth hands could weasel their way into a project of Sasori's, granted he died of any means other than self-obliteration. Somehow, Sasori didn't think that was possible. Someone was going to piss off Deidara to no end one of these days, and Deidara was going to take the rat bastard down with him. Whatever. As long as it wasn't him. Sasori was a figment of eternal beauty and existence. He could not be brought down by Deidara's erroneous definition of art.

As he observed Deidara, not giving a damn whether Deidara woke up or not, there were occasions where he had, indeed, been caught in the act. The first time Deidara thought he was being felt up in his sleep and demanded Leader-sama pair him with someone else. The only one Leader-sama offered was Itachi, so of course Deidara declined. That was good, because Sasori really didn't find anything intriguing about Kisame, and his nights would go back to being boring again.

At this moment Deidara caught Sasori peeping and touching for no less than the seventh time. Now he was assured in the fact that Sasori was not trying to sexually molest him (why would someone with no sex drive even bother?) he was just being annoying. The one blue eye of his not veiled by hair flew open, and he pushed Sasori's hand away from his face.

"Why don't you go read a book or something if you're so bored, un! Unlike you, I like to sleep!" said Deidara, and he rolled over on his side and pulled the blanket up over his head. Five seconds went by, and then Sasori crept to the other side of Deidara's bed and pulled the covers from his face down. He appeared to be blushing, or angry. Sasori didn't particularly care. Deidara was only beautiful when he was hot and bothered. Sasori couldn't help but enjoy that.

"Books do nothing to entertain me," said Sasori, fingering the strands of Deidara's unnecessary hair, now rendered even more unkempt by the bed sheets. "I'm afraid you'll have to suffer. "

"Hey, fuck you, Danna! Un! I want to sleep, go away."

"There's no need to speak to me like that. Respect your superiors," said Sasori, now having crawled upon the bed just above Deidara. He had a manic grin on his face that suggested nothing good would come from whatever he was thinking. On instinct, Deidara punched Sasori in the face as hard as he could. It made him fly back to the foot of the bed. Too bad it didn't hurt, though Deidara now felt as though he had just punched a brick wall. Was one of his fingers mangled now?

"Deidara," said Sasori, now lifting the younger boy up by the hair. Deidara hissed in pain, and even more in disgust when he felt his master's lips press again his own. God, he hated when this happened!! What gave this rat bastard the right to violate his sleep AND his personal space? His, his… god, Sasori smelled like fucking saw dust and tasted no differently. The worst part was that he only did this to get a reaction out of Deidara. It wasn't about his feelings, or about sexual desire, or even about power or dominance. He only messed with Deidara to replace his muse. What a fucking pile of shit! Deidara's urge to choke a bitch reached its max!

Deidara shoved the puppet back with all his might, winced at his broken finger, and rubbed his now throbbing head. It fucking hurt when people grabbed him by the hair like that. Had they no shame?

"Very well. I'll leave you to your "sleep," but I suggest you do something about your finger first," said Sasori, walking out of their room. He was probably off to the workshop to satiate the rest of the gap in his wayward inspiration. Deidara wished he'd trip down a flight of stairs and die, but of course that wasn't even possible. He'd just have to continue playing the replacement muse against his will, but that didn't mean he had to like it.


End file.
